


The Snowball Effect

by Ghost_Owl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, I’m not even sorry, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern AU, Seriously So Fluffy You Could Choke On It, more like Meet-Oops, nothing says love like ice to the face, real world AU, wintertime rom-com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Owl/pseuds/Ghost_Owl
Summary: Anakin had not meant to nail the cute guy from his building in the face with a snowball.Obi Wan had absolutely meant to hit him back.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 105
Kudos: 894





	1. Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [【授翻】雪球效应 The Snowball Effect（by Ghost_Owl）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23359723) by [Transatlanticism_1015](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transatlanticism_1015/pseuds/Transatlanticism_1015)



Anakin was from the desert, he was allowed to dislike snow.

Yeah, yeah, it was pretty, it was “magical” and all, and the first time he had seen it after moving east for college he would admit to being charmed.

It didn’t take very long for the shine to wear off, though, to notice how the pristine white turned to a sludgy beige from car exhaust and animal piss, how it gave his car engine problems, how no one else in this city seemed to know how to drive in it, how the road salt soiled his nice leather boots that were already water-blotched because they were waterproofed, but not to the extent needed to trudge through knee-high drifts to shovel out his damn parking space.

How Anakin’s body, having spent its life up to age eighteen in a tiny town on the ass end of _Death Valley_ , seemed doomed to remain completely weakened by cold weather. He was constantly catching winter bugs, his hands and lips chapped, and he always needed what felt like three layers on— and he still never felt truly warm.

Anakin liked living in the city, liked the nightlife, liked the friends he made, liked the job he had now. He had no plans of moving back home— much to his mother’s chagrin, but as much as he loved her, he truly hated being trapped in the middle of nowhere in a town covered in _sand_ enough that Anakin could hold his nose and deal with snowfall a couple times a year.

Anakin had also made his hatred of the elements quite clear to those who knew him, so on a snowy day when Ahsoka started banging on his door about going out food shopping with her, Anakin felt no shame in turning his music up louder to drown her out and focus on the string of code on his computer screen.

His roommate reminded him that she had no shame either, as after a couple of more knocks, the locked door clicked open to reveal Ahsoka marching in wielding a key at him threateningly. “Don’t raise your music at me, asshole. I am not exaggerating when I say there is no food in the fridge.”

Rolling his chair away from his desk to glare at her, Anakin remembered he was wearing only long socks, a ratty sweatshirt, and boxers, then crossed his legs to appear somewhat more decent. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m just busy. Can’t you order takeout?”

Ahsoka put her hands on her hips. “Even if we hadn’t spent the last two days eating leftover Thai takeout, have you looked outside?” She jabbed a thumb at the window where swirls of snow were falling. “I’m not making some poor minimum wage delivery driver go through that.”

“Oh, but it’s okay to make me drive through that?” Anakin countered. “Do you suddenly have a car to risk now?”

He was graced with an eyeroll. “I’m not saying to _drive_ through it, the store is literally a block away. We can be out and back in like an hour and we can make actual food for dinner tonight.”

After waiting a good ten minutes for Ahsoka to wrap her hair up in a blue and white scarf— “I just got these braids done, Skyguy, I’m not letting the snow mess them up” —Anakin was stepping out the door of their apartment building and getting promptly buffeted in the face with freezing white flurries.

“The store better actually be open in this weather, Ahsoka.”

“It is, you whiny baby. I checked online.” Ahsoka waggled her phone at him and started walking off down the sidewalk. Anakin hurried after her, ready to get in and out of the damn cold as quickly as possible; he could already feel his toes numbing up.

There was a small green space next to their building, not nearly big enough to be a park, more like an oversized lawn with a couple of bushes and trees that flowered in the spring and turned golden-orange in the fall. Now in the winter, the bare branches sparkled with clinging ice, and snow blanketed the entire area. Anakin thought it looked nice from a glance, but Ahsoka apparently needed to wander into the space to get a better look. 

“Aw, look how pretty this is! I love the snow.”

Anakin rocked back and forth on his heels, breath billowing as he watched Ahsoka take her sweet time trailing a hand over a snow-covered bush. “Yeah, it’s nice, Snips. Can we get going before we freeze please?” He looked away and down the street, trying to judge the exact distance and amount of time before he was in the store and not out in the cold, and therefore was not paying attention to what Ahsoka was doing. The bus stop was right here, maybe he should just wait…

Two seconds later, he very much regretted letting his guard down as an icy burst of white smacked him in the side of the head, knocking his hat off, trickling into his ear, and sliding unpleasantly beneath his jacket collar.

Anakin did _not_ shriek as he whirled around to Ahsoka’s cackling face, brushing the evidence of her crime off her gloves in a spray of snow.

“On your face, you’ve got a little—“ Ahsoka mimed wiping her face, still giggling, and another look at her smug, taunting eyes, and well…

Anakin may hate snow, but he hated losing even more, and letting this go would let Ahsoka win. Plus, the snow inside his collar was starting to trickle uncomfortably down Anakin’s neck.

“Do I? I don’t think I can feel it, I’ll come closer and you can—“ Anakin lunged for Ahsoka, grabbing a clumsy handful of snow off a bush as he went and hurling it at her. Ahsoka cried out in delight, kicking snow back at him and scrambling away to grab another handful of snow herself.

What followed was a quick and vicious battle. Both Anakin and Ahsoka, trained mixed martial artist, boasted speed and sharp reflexes, so actually hitting one another was a challenge. Anakin had the better throwing arm, but he was leveled out by inexperience in making snowballs that didn’t fall apart immediately. 

The cold had been forgotten, however, as Anakin’s blood pumped and his mind sang as he looked at his friend’s bright smile and felt himself smiling as he dodged another toss of snow. They were both soaking wet by now, and would probably have to go back and change before setting out for the store, but it was worth it. He hadn’t been outside and off his computer in what felt like forever, and now…

Anakin had finally clumped together what felt like a solid snowball. Ahsoka had taken cover behind a tree, but if she wanted a clearer shot at him, she would have to move her position, giving him an opening to—

_There!_

Ahsoka burst into the open and Anakin took his shot, winding back and tossing the snowball spinning directly at her head. 

Ahsoka, damn her reflexes, ducked.

The snowball soared over her, continuing on its path to impact right into the face of an unsuspecting pedestrian walking on the sidewalk. The ball exploded in the victim’s face, knocking them backwards with the force of impact, where they slipped on the slushy sidewalk and toppled right over in a flurry of flailing arms and tan coat.

The entire scene played out in front of Anakin like a slow-motion horror movie. As the person fell behind the bushes and out of sight, he was already tearing across the lawn, Ahsoka’s startled laugh ringing in his ears. “Oh, shit! Nice one!”

Anakin was going to kill her.

Anakin was going to kill _himself_.

What if he hit an old person?

What if he hit a _pregnant_ person?

What if his snowball had caused the person to fall and hit their head the wrong way and die?

Anakin burst out from behind the bushes and onto the sidewalk, apology already on his lips and—

_Oh my god, I hit Mailbox Man._

Anakin’s boots skidded on the sidewalk slush and out went his feet from under him. He barely managed to put up his hand in time to catch himself as he wiped out directly in front of his victim. Slush spattered his face, and for a moment, Anakin just stayed in a planking position on the freezing, wet sidewalk, ice seeping through his coat sleeve as he contemplated the tragedy of his existence.

Anakin beaned Mailbox Man in the face with a goddamn snowball.

Fuck his entire life.

Now, Mailbox Man was not actually named Mailbox Man, or so Anakin assumed. See, Anakin had never actually had a conversation with the guy to learn his name, which was completely and entirely Anakin’s own fault. 

Mailbox Man presumably lived in the same building as Anakin and Ahsoka did, as he got his mail as well as the daily paper from one of the mailboxes in the lobby numbered with the apartment numbers that only residents could open with a key. Anakin had met Mailbox Man for the first time about a week after he had moved in, when he had gone down to get his mail in the morning and found Mailbox Man unlocking a box and retrieving a stack of letters.

This proved to be a problem, because Mailbox Man was gorgeous.

A couple of years older than Anakin, always dressed sharply in casual business attire, elegantly styled tawny hair that matched the neatly trimmed beard, and the most stunning eyes Anakin had ever seen. Anakin had promptly choked on his tongue when first seeing the man, and when he had received a delightfully British “Good morning”, Anakin had been able to do little more than nod and grunt at him in return before scurrying back upstairs without even retrieving his own mail.

It had turned into an odd sort of routine. Anakin would set an alarm so he could get up every morning and make it downstairs to get the mail at the same time. Mailbox Man would be at his mailbox and he would look up at Anakin, smile, and say “Good morning”. Anakin would nod, grunt, and get his own mail, then retreat as fast as he possibly could.

Anakin might be a little bit in love with Mailbox Man, but that was besides the point.

Except now it wasn’t because Anakin had just attempted murder-by-snowball and now this guy was probably injured, he was absolutely going to hate Anakin, and then who was going to say good morning to him when he went to check the mailbox that was empty more often than not—

“Are you alright?”

Anakin froze. 

Very, very slowly he turned his head upwards to see Mailbox Man standing in front of him. Seeing the man had picked himself up, a quick once over told Anakin that the man didn’t appear to be visibly bleeding or have any broken bones, thank god. 

A second once over proved to be a very bad idea, as this time Anakin was able to take in the nice tan coat, the silky-looking bright blue scarf that matched the man’s eyes, now the same frost as the winter sky. Anakin really had gotten him directly in the face, as there was snow clumped in his usually-perfect hair, snow on his eyelashes, snow in his beard that was dripping on to his scarf, and in all honestly it should have made him look ridiculous, but to Anakin it just made him look ethereal, like a winter spirit.

The man waved a hand, said, “Hello? Are you alright?” and Anakin blankly realized that these were the first words the man had said to him that weren’t “Good morning”, and he really did have a nice voice that Anakin wanted to hear a lot more of, and his eyes were sparkling as his face got closer and he didn’t look _too_ mad at Anakin for hitting him with a snowball—

Wait. Oh no, the man was moving closer, he was leaning down and his hand was reaching out and if he touched Anakin, Anakin was going to spontaneously combust on the spot.

“Stop!” Anakin blurted out, holding out his hand that wasn’t propping himself up. The man immediately halted, though his face still seemed almost worried, which was ridiculous because “I hit you with a snowball,” Anakin told the man stupidly.

The man released a huff of laughter at this, breath clouding in the cold air. “Did you?” His voice was dry but pleasant. “I hadn’t noticed.” He flicked a clump of ice out of his beard, giving Anakin a crooked smile.

Anakin’s mind did a hard reboot at the smile. “Fuck, sorry, I’m—“ Pushing off the ground, he staggered back to his feet, shaking out the pain in the arm that had hit the ground. “I am so incredibly sorry,” he told the man. “I promise that snowball was not meant for you. Which isn’t an excuse! I know I should have been more careful, but I was dicking around with my roommate and it was supposed to hit her, and...”

Anakin trailed off, gesturing helplessly at himself, at the man, at everything. “I am so sorry if your clothes got wet or if you got hurt, I promise I can pay for dry cleaning or doctor’s bills, I just—“

“It’s not a problem.” The man reached out and caught Anakin’s flailing hands in his own leather gloves, and for a heartbeat, they both froze, Anakin unable to take his eyes off their hands locked together. His hand had never felt warmer. The man lightly dropped Anakin’s hands again and took a step backwards with a clearing of the throat and another heartbreakingly gentle smile. “I sincerely appreciate your offer,” he promised. “Though I promise you, it isn’t necessary. Just knocked me on my ass for a moment, the coat will dry.”

“Still,” Anakin fretted, resolutely ignoring the man’s comments about his ass as well as any thoughts about what kind of bruise that might leave, or how it might look. “I hit you.”

“You said you weren’t aiming for me, correct? You were aiming for her?” The man tilted his head towards Ahsoka, who was watching them from a safe distance away like the coward she was. Upon catching their attention, she waved cheerily at them. 

“Yes,” Anakin grit out, trying to send Ahsoka a glare that would convey in no uncertain terms that he was going to _pulverize_ her for this. 

“Then there’s no reason for it to be a problem, it was an accident,” the man assured him. “It certainly made my morning commute more interesting.” He smiled brightly again, and Anakin was going to melt in the middle of a snowstorm. 

Anakin had no clue how to respond to this, opened his mouth anyway, probably to apologize again, but the rumbling of a motor interrupted them both. A flash of headlights told him the bus was moving up to the stop next to them.

“Speaking of my commute,” the man murmured. He looked at the approaching bus, back at Anakin again, cocked his head as if considering something. 

The bus stopped with a hiss, and Anakin was about to bid him an awkward goodbye when the man moved closer to him, right in his personal space. His eyes were very, very bright, and Anakin couldn’t breathe.

Was he going in for a kiss?

The man’s face grew closer, Anakin could see his own reflection in those clear eyes, feel the man’s fogged breath against his own face.

Anakin had to be dreaming. The man wouldn’t actually—

Then the man jumped, reaching for something above Anakin’s head, and Anakin looked upwards just in time to get an avalanche of freezing white snow in the face, in his hair, down the entire back and front of his jacket.

Anakin would admit the sound he let out wasn’t exactly dignified, the man really had dumped the entire tree branch hanging above Anakin’s head on top of him, though it was cold enough to feel like the entire tree. Sputtering in disbelief, Anakin wiped the snow out of his eyes in time to see the man firing off a snappy salute at him and stepping onto the bus in a swish of tan coat.

Some of the snow had gone down his windpipe, so all Anakin could do was cough incredulously and wipe more snow off his face as the bus headed off.

Anakin couldn’t believe him.

He had accidentally hit Mailbox Man with a snowball, and Mailbox Man had just dropped a treeful of snow on him.

On _purpose._

His jaw was hanging, Anakin could feel it, but he was struck so completely dumb by the situation that at first he didn’t register Ahsoka’s laughter as she sidled up to him. “Oh my god, your _face,_ ” she giggled.

“Shut up.” Anakin stuck a finger at her in warning, spitting out another mouthful of snow. “Shut. Up. This is your fault.”

“How?” Ahsoka challenged. “All I did was dodge your crappy throw. I didn’t force you to hit someone else. Obi Wan was just in the wrong place, poor dude.”

“I wouldn’t have hit him if you didn’t start the fight in the first—“ Anakin cut himself off, registering the rest of what Ahsoka had said. “Wait, _Obi Wan?_ You know his name?”

Ahsoka gave him that Look that said she thought Anakin was being colossally dense but wasn’t going to say so. “Uh, yeah? I’ve seen him around the building, we’ve talked a couple of times, he’s nice. Are you seriously telling me you don’t even know the name of the guy you’ve been crushing on at least since I moved in with you?”

“I have not been crushing on him!” Anakin squawked, ignoring how his voice went up a register as it tended to do when he was lying. “Crushing” made it sound like he was some hapless teenager, dammit, he was not _crushing_ , Ahsoka didn’t know what she was talking about it. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Ahsoka put a finger on her cheek faux-thoughtfully. “Hmm. I don’t know, maybe because you work from home and aren’t on time for anything if your life depends on it, and yet every morning you wake up to an alarm not for a job but just to get the mail? The mail you throw hissy fits—“

“I do not.”

“—hissy fits over, if I wake up first and get it without you? And then you just plop it on the counter and don’t even read it?”

“I never actually get anything besides bills and junk mail, Snips.”

“Exactly,” Ahsoka told him. “So I went with you the one time to see what was up, and then you literally, _literally_ lit up like a firework as soon as you saw Obi Wan at the mailbox, as painfully schmoopy as that was for me to say. I know you, Skyguy.”

In the face of his friend’s accusing stare, Anakin burrowed deeper into his snow-drenched coat collar. “Doesn’t mean I like-like him,” he mumbled, wincing at sounding even more like a hapless teenager.

Ahsoka’s face softened. “It’s okay if you do, dork. I got good vibes whenever I had a conversation with him, and even from my lesbian viewpoint I can see he’s easy on the eyes. You should talk to him.”

Anakin snorted. “After I basically assaulted him with a wad of ice? Yeah, I’m sure he’d love to see me again.”

“He got you back!” Ahsoka argued. “And he got you back good! He doesn’t seem like a spiteful person, so if his response to you beaning him in the face was to play along, I think that’s a really good sign.”

“I’m going to mess it up,” Anakin informed her. “I know you weren’t there to see us for yourself, but you can ask Padmé how I was while we were dating. I’m godawful at all the romance stuff; I’m a mess with talking to people in general, you know that.”

“Padmé once told me you were the nicest guy she dated,” Ahsoka pointed out. “And you’re great to talk to as long as you aren’t getting anxious over it.”

“I’m not nice, Padmé’s other ex-boyfriend is just a dickbag,” Anakin retorted, secretly resolving to buy Padmé some kind of gift. “And that’s the secret, I’m always anxious.”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine, if you seriously don’t want to, I won’t push. I just don’t think it would do much harm.”

Even though Ahsoka had agreed to drop it, Anakin felt like he had to convince her— or himself. “He’s probably straight.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Ahsoka replied. “Just a feeling,” she added at Anakin’s suspicious face. “Anyway, that’s why I’m saying _talk_ to him, not show up at his door with roses or something. Then you can find out for yourself.”

Anakin pursed his lips, remembering the clear sky in the man’s— Obi Wan’s eyes, that brief flash of a mischievous smile as he got on the bus. A shiver went down his spine that he wasn’t sure was from the snowstorm they were in and oh, right, he was currently soaked and freezing his ass off.

“I’m going back inside to change,” Anakin told Ahsoka as he turned around and headed back for the apartment building. “I promise I’ll go out to the store after.”

“Wait— don’t run away from me, you coward!” Ahsoka chased after him. “At least challenge him to a snowball match to make up for dumping snow on you!”

Anakin was not going to listen to her. He wasn’t going to do any more thinking about Obi Wan.

* * *  
The next morning, Obi Wan was the only thing on his mind as Anakin prepared to go through with possibly the worst idea he had ever had in his life.

The night before, Anakin hadn’t been able to sleep, brain replaying Obi Wan’s face over and over again, how close he had gotten before he had grabbed the tree branch, the warm tone of his voice. 

Ahsoka’s voice had echoed in his ear to counter the anxious thoughts. _Just talk, don’t show up at his door with roses, challenge him to a snowball match…_

Anakin had gotten up, went outside at two in the morning, then came back having acquired what he needed before setting an alarm an hour earlier than his usual one.

Now, Anakin thought as he grabbed what he wanted out of the freezer and marched outside and down the hall, he had incentive to go through with it, as if he dawdled, the ball of snow he had made outside the building at 2 am would melt all over him.

Riding the elevator six floors up, Anakin paused at the end of the hallway, peering down it to find the apartment number on the door that matched the one on the mailbox Anakin had seen Obi Wan open.

He sighed, shifting nervously in his slippers. He was listening to Ahsoka, he certainly wasn’t showing up at the guy’s door with _roses_. Anakin had had bad romantic ideas before.

Why the hell was he doing this?

The snowball in his hand dripped an icy glob onto his foot and Anakin swore quietly, building up resolve. 

Marching down the hallway, Anakin stopped in front of the door with the right number. If Obi Wan was downstairs fully dressed when getting his mail an hour from now, he would probably be awake and getting ready by now.

Anakin’s fingers had grown numb from holding the snowball, and the trickle of ice water down his wrist spurred him into action. Taking a deep breath, he dropped the snowball on the front mat, gave a series of loud, pounding knocks on the door, then took off down the hall and dove into the stairwell as fast as humanly possible. Peeking back out the stair door, Anakin waited.

Obi Wan’s door opened.

Anakin held his breath.

Then let it all out at once at the sight because _oh no._

Obi Wan was not dressed up in his usual dress shirts and ties and pressed pants. Obi Wan was in a pair of baggy plaid pajama pants and a faded teeshirt that fit tightly around his upper frame.

 _Somebody works out,_ Anakin thought faintly, registering that his mouth had gone dry.

Obi Wan obviously had not gotten to doing whatever he usually did with his hair yet either, as his beard looked scruffier than usual and his hair was sticking up in tousled auburn strands that made it look extremely fluffy and soft and A_____ wanted to touch it—

He was distracted by his thirst when Obi Wan stepped forward, looking around for who had been banging his door down, and trod directly in the well-placed snowball on the front mat.

“Eugh!”

Anakin clapped a hand over his mouth as Obi Wan stumbled away from the mess on his mat, hopping on one foot and oh, damn, he was wearing socks too, bad luck, and staring incredulously down at his front mat.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

At that, Anakin shut the stairwell door, tearing off down the stairs, nearly slipping and falling at least five times as he dashed down all six flights, steps pounding out a rhythm that sounded like _bad idea, bad idea, bad idea_.

That _voice._

Lower, more heavily accented, the growly rasp to it that had to have come from just having woken up. 

Anakin knew how Obi Wan looked when he woke up in the morning now. Knew how he sounded. Knew how the way he said “fucking” made Anakin feel lightheaded, overwhelmed. God, he knew better than to think he’d be able to keep that voice out of his fantasies because _holy shit._

Anakin finally reached his floor, bursting through his own door and fleeing into his room, bellyflopping onto the bed and burying his face in the pillow.

Of course, now was when Ahsoka decided to pop her head in. “You’re up early. What’re you doing stomping around and groaning?”

Anakin took his face out of the pillow to stare at her distraughtly. “I messed up.”

Ahsoka sighed, walking over to his bed and sitting down, patting him on the leg. “Care to elaborate?”

Deciding that facing into the pillow was easier, Anakin mumbled out what had happened with the snowball, bracing himself for teasing.

Instead, he got a bout of silence. “That was…” Ahsoka started, “not smooth, not by a long shot. It’s kind of cute in an annoying way, though, and honestly Anakin, only you would do it. At least now he knows your awful sense of humor.”

“I do not have an awful sense of humor!”

“Sure you don’t”

“I don’t!”

Another moment of silence passed. 

“Alright, I gave you the good friend speech, I don’t think you screwed up that badly. Can I laugh at you now?”

“Ahsoka” Anakin groaned, but his roommate was already giggling into her hands. He sat up and halfheartedly hit her with his pillow, but she simply wrestled it out of his hands and bopped him back with it.

“You are such a dolt! Courting someone by giving them wet socks? What is this, kindergarten? Are you gonna tug on his pigtails next?”

Anakin scowled at her, yanking the pillow back and covering his face with it again. “Let me wallow away in peace, please. There’s no way I’m going to go get the mail while he’s there now.”

“So now you’re just gonna retreat? Real brave.”

Anakin bravely chose to ignore her.

A scoff sounded from outside his pillow. “Alright, fine, I’ll get the mail.”

Anakin shot upright. “Don’t tell him what I did!”

Ahsoka waved him off, heading for the door. “Relax, I won’t snitch you out.”

“I _mean it_ , Ahsoka.”

“I _know_ , Anakin.”

* * *  
Obi Wan truly hadn’t been intending to start any sort of juvenile prank war with the handsome man who got his mail at the same time he did every morning.

Frankly, Obi Wan had always assumed the man didn’t like him. That first morning he had seen him, a slender shadow in all black, pretty eyes that sparkled and a halo of golden curls, he had had to restrict himself to simply a “Good morning.”

In return, Obi Wan had received a venomous glare and a grunt.

Perhaps the man was just distant and gruff with everyone, as he still came down at the same time Obi Wan did every day— and Obi Wan wondered if he had a job to get to like Obi Wan did, or if he was just very into punctuality.

He still greeted the man every morning, just to get the flash of those eyes and the briefest noise of acknowledgement, even if the man seemed to be disinclined to speak to him. Obi Wan was under no assumption that this little routine had a chance of going anywhere, he didn’t even know the other man’s name; he was simply taking the opportunity to admire the beauty in his surroundings.

Single as he was, it wasn’t like Obi Wan had anyone of his own to admire up close.

The day of the snowstorm, Obi Wan had needed to catch a later bus than usual; with the weather, he was originally planning on working from home, but a last minute incident at the office had caused him to bundle up and brace himself for the elements.

Despite overhearing people playing on the snowy lawn, he had not thought to brace himself for frozen projectiles nailing him right in the nose. The blow had caught Obi Wan off balance and sent him backwards and down directly on his tailbone— which was fucking painful, thank you very much.

He had just been starting to pick himself up when a blur of black came bursting out from behind the bushes along the sidewalk and slipping to the ground with a yelp.

Ignoring the literal pain in the ass, Obi Wan hurried to his feet, any irritation over the snowball fading into worry of someone being hurt.

He nearly slipped all over again when wet curls flipped out of the other’s face to reveal wide, startled blue eyes.

With the dark clothing, the eye scar, and the brooding expression, Obi Wan had never pegged the man as young as he seemed now. He wondered how much of that glower was a mask, for now the man’s face wasn’t hiding a thing as he stammered out an apology— that snowball had been him.

Obi Wan’s tailbone still throbbed, and he was a little worried about his nice wool coat getting a stain, but staring now at the man with the cheeks rosy from the cold and the wild hair that curled around his face giving him the look of an actual angel, Obi Wan couldn’t bring himself to do anything but forgive him.

The man had continued to babble out apologies— damn him, it was adorable, and Obi Wan was struck by the sudden urge to see that beautiful look of startled surprise again, and then he had seen the tree branch.

He had stepped forward cautiously and the man had gone even redder, and wasn’t _that_ interesting, and Obi Wan had been forced to ignore the close proximity and yank on the tree branch before stepping away onto the well-timed bus.

The squawk and the startled expression he had been looking for had made it more than worth it. Obi Wan had found himself in a good mood the rest of the day.

He had not by any means been expecting retaliation.

Yet, when he heard pounding on his door that could rival the police and had ended up with a freezing sockfull of water— and he hadn’t done laundry in a while, he didn’t have any other pairs —there could only be one suspect.

Obi Wan _knew_ it was him.

The knowledge sent a slight thrill through him, soggy sock aside. He had finally gotten the man’s attention, and juvenile as the method had been, it felt damn good.

Obi Wan found himself getting ready faster than usual, forcing him to wait a few minutes before traveling downstairs to the mailboxes. He was going to ask the man’s name this time, why in the hell hadn’t he done so before—

The man wasn’t there.

Instead he found the young woman with the bright blue eyes and braided buns who had introduced herself as Ahsoka on the few times she and Obi Wan had spoken. Obi Wan remembered her lingering in the distance after The Snowball Incident yesterday, and now she was getting the mail out of the box the pretty man usually got mail from.

Despite himself, Obi Wan felt his heart drop. _A girlfriend?_ Likely, the man was stunning, it was hard to imagine him as single.

Obi Wan pursed his lips. “Good morning, Ahsoka,” he said carefully.

Her head snapped up to meet his gaze with a devious grin and Obi Wan now knew with absolute certainty that the other man had been responsible for the snowball at his door, and that Ahsoka knew about it.

“Hi, Obi Wan!” Ahsoka chirped, turning away from him to casually fiddle with her mailbox door.

Because he liked pain apparently, Obi Wan couldn’t help himself. “I didn’t know you lived with anyone.” Well, that didn’t sound creepy at all.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, Anakin’s my roommate.“

Obi Wan blinked. So the man’s name was Anakin— and he possibly wasn’t dating Ahsoka, as one didn’t usually introduce their significant other as merely their roommate.

Ahsoka’s eyes flicked over to Obi Wan, mouth curving upwards. “Anakin says hello, by the way.” And then she _winked_.

Obi Wan’s mind spun. What was that supposed to mean? Was Ahsoka teasing him about the snow on his doorstep? Was she teasing him about Anakin? That couldn’t be possible, there was no way for her to know— unless Anakin had mentioned him?

There he went, getting ahead of himself. Obi Wan still had no proof Anakin didn’t hate him. Ahsoka was likely making fun of the snowball prank.

Ahsoka was definitely acting oddly though, shooting Obi Wan these coy smiles like she knew something he didn’t. In the back of his mind, he remembered Anakin’s nervous expression and his flush from yesterday.

Obi Wan was getting ahead of himself again.

Still, if there was the slightest chance...

Obi Wan took the jump. “Tell him I say hello back,” he smiled. “And, he’s more than welcome to knock on my door if he’d like to say hello in person.”

That was definitely out there, but from the widening of Ahsoka’s eyes and smirk, oh yes, she knew everything, he knew his point had been made.

“I’ll let him know,” Ahsoka promised, pulling out their mail and closing the box door. Giving him a last smile and wave, she walked away.

Obi Wan watched her go, stroking his beard pensively. 

The idea he was having really was a bad one. 

Anakin may have thrown the first snowball, so to speak, but Obi Wan had started the war by purposefully retaliating. If anything, his wet sock evened them out.

That was the thing about Obi Wan, though. Getting even was fine, but he much preferred to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep on coming up with oneshots instead of working on _Mutuals_ help me
> 
> This _is_ a oneshot, it just got long so I split it, part two is coming out tomorrow.


	2. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd still wait a week before updating.

A day later, Obi Wan opened the service door onto the roof and staked out his position at the edge of the building. 

This morning had solidified his resolve when he had arrived downstairs and found Anakin at the box first. Obi Wan had smiled, said “Good morning” out of habit, suddenly nervous that perhaps the snow at his door had been malicious and he was going to get nothing but another glare and grunt today.

Instead, Anakin’s head had jerked up to meet his eyes with that same startled, open look from that first day in the snow. Obi Wan had paused there, so struck by it that Anakin’s quiet “Hi, Obi Wan,” and a quick wave had almost knocked him off his feet.

There had been no time for Obi Wan to respond, Anakin had yanked his mail out of the box and given Obi Wan a hesitant smile before making a beeline for the stairwell.

Obi Wan had barely registered that the look contained a great deal of guilt in it and that he was supposed to be getting this man back for the doormat incident. He had been meaning to bring it up, honestly, he had, but good god, that little half-smile was a lovely thing, and Obi Wan needed to see it again. 

Later that day, Obi Wan had been just stepping out of the elevator when he had seen Ahsoka and Anakin emerging from the stairwell and heading for the lobby door, chattering about a movie.

They hadn’t seen him, so Obi Wan had stayed back, checked their movie’s time on a whim and when it would end, estimating when exactly they would return, just like a normal, non-stalker would.

So now he crouched on a cold, windy rooftop getting pelted with freezing gusts and waiting for the pair to return. There was still enough snow gathered on the roof to make a snowball.

Finally, an older black car pulled into the parking lot, and there they were, getting out of it and walking towards the building entrance.

Obi Wan shifted and winced from the crouch; his tailbone still hurt really damn bad. 

This was ridiculous. He was in his thirties, not in bloody primary school. He should turn around and leave.

Instead, he found himself approximating the weight of the snowball in his hand and calculating velocity and drop times in his head.

He should not be doing this.

Anakin’s bright hair shone in the sunlight as he stepped up to the door. 

Obi Wan let the snowball drop.

He was already ducking away, but the high-pitched “what the _fuck?!_ ” coupled with Ahsoka’s loud laughter from below sent a smile over his face as he hurried back to the service door.

* * *  
Anakin was not a competitive person by nature.

Okay, that was a lie. He was extremely competitive, but he had grown better at not making absolutely everything into a contest that he Had To Win.

Except this snowball thing with Obi Wan? Yeah, definitely a competition, and Anakin was not fucking losing, no matter how pretty his opponent was.

The snowball that appeared out of literally nowhere and had gone down his back _again_ had done it. It had to be Obi Wan— Anakin still hadn’t figured out how the guy had actually done it, but he _knew_ , who else could it possibly be?

Anakin hadn’t been trying with the snowball at the doorstep, not really, but now he was ready to show Obi Wan just exactly who he was playing with. Ahsoka could mock him all she wanted about “bizarre mating rituals”, but Anakin wasn’t thinking about that. He _wasn’t_. Not about winning— somehow —and what his “victory prize” would be...

He didn’t know where he was going with all of this, and this could still go horribly wrong. Ahsoka claimed Obi Wan had seemed interested in him when she did her whole “the Lannisters send their regards” bit at the mailboxes, but no one could know for sure. Obi Wan could just be a guy who enjoyed a good game, and was having fun. Anakin didn’t fall for people that often in general, he wasn’t letting himself get heartbroken over someone he’d spoken to in person once.

He repeated this to himself as he stood outside in the cold of night with his old slingshot in his good hand, having scraped up enough relatively clean snow off the ground and staring at the glowing yellow of the window Anakin was ninety-nine percent sure was Obi Wan’s— and no, Snips, it wasn't "stalkerish" of him to know this.

When he had explained this plan to Ahsoka, she had told him he was crazy. Maybe she was right, but if it went right, it still counted as a win for Anakin.

Taking a breath, Anakin pulled some gathered sidewalk gravel out of his pocket and took aim.

* * *  
In retrospect, Obi Wan should have known he hadn’t dealt a final blow. Letting his guard down had been a mistake.

He blamed this morning for being Sunday, and there not being any mail to get. Those gorgeous smiles and shy hellos he had been getting the past few days had spoiled him.

He was in his own home though, where he was supposed to be safe. He had no reason to suspect...

Obi Wan has been having a quiet evening in with his expat friend Qui Gon, beers and greasy food and laughing over Qui Gon’s escapades on his latest trip abroad.

“So I told him that no, that wasn’t where I had been pointing at on the—“ Qui Gon cut himself off. “Do you hear that? That tapping? I’m sorry, but it’s been driving me mad.”

Obi Wan paused, cocking his head to listen and yes, he could hear it too. A slight _click,_ then silence, then it came again. 

“What could that—?”

“I think it’s coming from the window.” Qui Gon started to get up, but Obi Wan motioned for him to sit, headed for the window himself. It was probably some sort of bird, and Qui Gon was the type of person to let birds into the room for fun.

There was another click, but Obi Wan couldn’t see anything outside. Despite his better judgement, Obi Wan opened the window and stuck his head out to see if he could get a better look around.

He did not look down, or maybe the second burst of icy cold to the face in two days wouldn’t have been such a surprise.

Once more, Obi Wan was knocked backwards with the impact and landed _again_ on his abused tailbone.

Qui Gon was already up and hurrying towards him, crouching down and patting the snow off Obi Wan’s face and his now wet teeshirt. “Obi Wan! You look like you’re in pain, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Obi Wan grunted, batting his hands away and wiping snow out of his beard. “I had just already hurt my tailbone and this didn’t help.”

“What the hell was that?” Qui Gon looked genuinely befuddled. “This looks like snow, how did—?”

“Someone threw a snowball at me,” Obi Wan explained, knowing immediately that what he said was true as well as exactly who the culprit was.

“A _snowball?_ ” Qui Gon deadpanned, but at Obi Wan’s dead serious look, his face shifted to astonishment, hurrying over to look out the window. “That‘s not possible, we’re eight stories up!”

"Oh it was, I promise you," Obi Wan said, spitting ice out of his beard. Now how in the world Anakin had managed it, he had no idea...

"The hell?" Qui Gon muttered. "Who launches snowballs through people's windows? They could have hurt someone—"

"No, no Qui," Obi Wan sighed, resigning himself to telling the entire story of how he was attempting to woo a pretty boy by potentially giving him frostbite.

He kept his head up proudly the entire time, even in the face of Qui Gon obviously trying harder and harder not to laugh. 

When Obi Wan finished, his friend buried his face in his hands, not saying anything, but Obi Wan could see the shaking of his shoulders.

“Go on, say it,” Oui Gon told him irritably, getting off the floor to grab paper towels to catch the excess snow that was now puddling around his floor. “I’m being completely ridiculous, I know.”

Still chortling, Qui Gon peeked out from behind his fingers. “No, you make perfect sense— if you were a twelve year old boy. You’ve been spending your time throwing bloody snowballs at somebody as some sort of, what, frozen foreplay?”

“Please never say ‘frozen foreplay’ again,” Obi Wan told him, waving the sopping paper towels at him as he walked over to toss them out. He debated grabbing another beer from the fridge while he was there.

“Fine, but I do find myself curious, Obi Wan,” Qui Gon pressed. “Where exactly are you planning on going with all of this?” 

Obi Wan grabbed the beer, taking his time opening it and taking a sip to delay his response. He could easily say that this was nothing, just a bit of fun, but he found himself surprisingly reluctant to brush it off like that.

 _Because I like the attention_ , he couldn’t say, that would just solidify Qui Gon’s twelve year old comment, even if it was true.

 _Because I want to get to know him better_ wouldn’t work either, Qui Gon would just repeat the question Obi Wan had been asking himself for ages, why not just talk to him? Obi Wan knew he was a good conversationalist; if he was reading Anakin correctly, and he suspected he was, it likely wouldn’t be difficult to catch him at the mailboxes one day and get a little deeper into talking beyond standard greetings. It would definitely be enough to gauge any potential interest.

Perhaps the answer to the conversation question was what Obi Wan eventually decided to say. “I think,” he began, taking another drink for courage. “I think it’s because that would end the game, and I’m not quite ready for that, foolish as it sounds.”

Qui Gon raised his eyebrows at this, obviously expecting more, but Obi Wan turned away and took another bite of food, signaling the end of the conversation. He wasn’t going into detail on how there was still a chance he was wrong about Anakin, that this was only a game for him, and that as much as Obi Wan might like to try to take this further, the feeling could be very much not mutual.

He was bored and single, and he was happy to welcome a little harmless fun for the time being with someone like Anakin.

Qui Gon looked like he wanted to push for answers, which of course he did, so Obi Wan used his best diversion tactic.

“So, I found this new coffee shop the other day...”

“Don’t change the subject,” Qui Gon warned, though Obi Wan could see him riling up anyway. “Though I do have to ask you, _why_ would you...”

* * *  
It had been a couple of days later since the window snowball, and Obi Wan had unfortunately been unable to find a way to get Anakin back.

The roof bomb had been creative, but the window attack had been better, and Obi Wan knew that whatever he came up with had to top it somehow, but with an influx of things to do at work, he hadn’t had the time to come up with something appropriately clever.

He would allow himself partial credit for the exchange with Anakin at the mailboxes the morning after the window.

Obi Wan had chosen for the first time to break routine and forego the “Good morning”, instead taking a huge risk and openly eyeing up Anakin’s arms, nicely defined as they were beneath his black coat.

“Eight stories up?” he asked with a raise of brows, knowing he was treading new ground by actually acknowledging the game.

Anakin, to his own credit, only mimicked a deer in the headlights for a second, giving Obi Wan just enough time to worry he was going to flat out deny what Obi Wan was talking about before his face melted into a crooked grin.

“Yeah, uh...” Obi Wan watched in awe as long lashes dipped downwards as Anakin smiled demurely at the floor and gave a bashful chuckle. “I’m not bad, but slingshots are better.”

 _Slingshots..._ Obi Wan was going to make a quip about involving outside weapons, but Anakin seemed to have used up all of his interactions for the day, as he rubbed at the arm Obi Wan had been staring at and smiled before heading off.

They had gone back to the regular greeting exchanges for the next few days, but Obi Wan could tell Anakin was waiting, wondering if Obi Wan was planning to concede or retaliate.

Making him wait was certainly enjoyable, but Obi Wan knew you could only drag it out so long.

And damn it, he had _nothing_.

He was still racking his brains as he descended to the laundry room one evening, hamper and detergent balanced on one hip. He rounded the corner, ready to fork over the money for the outrageously priced building machines— he normally used the laundromat down the street, but it was snowing again —and froze.

There was Anakin, sprawled over the tops of the washer-dryer like an oversized cat, fast asleep.

Obi Wan stood there in the doorway and just watched him for what he knew for way too long, the long eyelashes, the curls scattered over his face, the tantalizing sliver of tan skin visible between Anakin’s rucked up teeshirt and jeans waistline.

 _Down, boy._. Obi Wan shook his head clear of any uncivilized sorts of thoughts, reminding himself sternly that this was a public space; even if the two of them were the only ones there, and Anakin was asleep and unaware.

_He looks so peaceful sleeping..._

Obi Wan had the idea.

This one honestly toyed with the border of pure meanness, but Obi Wan could admit to being a bit of a bastard at heart, and anyway, he reminded himself that if he had permitted Qui Gon to open his window that night, Anakin would have had a civilian casualty on his hands.

This was cruel, but fair.

Obi Wan put down his laundry and hurried out of the laundry room and out into the snowstorm beyond the warm lobby doors.

It was fucking cold out in only a button-down, but Obi Wan didn’t take long grabbing what he needed fresh off the ground. The warm lobby air when he returned inside caused the snowball in his hands to start melting immediately, so his steps back down to the laundry were even quicker.

The time limit meant Obi Wan had no time to think any further, so the second Anakin was in range, he fired.

* * *  
Anakin hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the warm dryer, honestly. 

The heat in his room had been on the fritz though, and after a warning from building maintenance the last time he had fixed something on his own, he was now forced to deal with it until an “official” repair schmuck could come and charge Anakin extra to deal with it.

So he had done laundry before strictly necessary if just to relax in the toasty laundry room. If he had sat on the dryer and the rumbling and warmth might have caused him to nod off...

Well, the icy blast to the face was more than enough to punish him for it.

Anakin jerked awake with a garbled yell that still managed to be a register higher than his normal, flailing to keep from falling off the machine altogether.

Pawing desperately at the nasty, horridly freezing cold ice water now _all over his face and shirt,_ Anakin wasn’t even thinking about exactly why there was snow in the laundry room until a rich chuckle sounded across the room.

Reduced to gaping incredulously once more, Anakin stared at Obi Wan, who was propped against the far doorway looking amazing in a plain button up and jeans way tighter than what he usually wore, talk about laundry day jeans, _Jesus_. 

Abruptly remembering he was pissed off, Anakin jerked out of his ogling to gape at that smug face with those gorgeous eyes sparkling with pure evil, those were _evil._

“I was sleeping,” he informed Obi Wan blankly.

Obi Wan’s mouth twitched under his beard. “I noticed. Did you know there’s a sign saying not to sit on the washer-dryer?”

Anakin was cold as all hell and his blood was rushing after the rude awakening and why the hell had he dropped his guard while in the open like this, he had been on edge for a retaliatory attack for the past few days, and now Obi Wan was standing there smirking at him—

“You should run,” Anakin said, making his movements crystal clear as he began to crawl off the dryer.

“Ah.” Obi Wan’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and Anakin took pleasure in having thrown him off guard. “So we’re playing it like— very well then. Your move.”

Obi Wan promptly bolted out the door without another word.

“Shit,” Anakin muttered, not really having expected the guy to just take off like that. He regained his sense a second later, moving his ass out of the room himself. As Anakin skidded into the lobby, he was just in time to see the flash of Obi Wan’s hair ducking out the front door. Anakin tore after him only to immediately get enveloped in a sheet of ice the moment he stepped out the door. It was cold enough in just a teeshirt and jeans, but getting doused and wet by a damn snowball all over his upper body wasn’t helping in the slightest.

He could see Obi Wan’s figure standing a couple of paces down the walk, illuminated under a streetlamp. Bastard probably thought Anakin wouldn’t follow him out as drenched and underdressed as he was, but he had obviously underestimated Anakin’s willingness to do stupid things to win. Raising his chin, Anakin strode out into the snowstorm.

Fuck, it was _cold_.

Under the streetlamp, Anakin could spot the flash of Obi Wan’s smile, his hair golden in the dark. His hands were stuffed casually in his pockets, but Anakin could see the thinness of his shirt flapping in the winter wind. He had to be freezing too, though at least he hadn’t already been hit by a… 

_Snowball._

They were standing nearly directly on the spot where Anakin had hit Obi Wan that first time that felt like forever ago. There were plenty of snow-covered bushes as well as the infamous tree branch all over, and Obi Wan was standing right there, far too casually.

Anakin stopped where he was, a few paces away.

Obi Wan’s smile grew wider. “Lovely weather we’re having,” he called out over the wind.

Anakin couldn’t do anything but laugh incredulously. “Is this normal for you?” he couldn’t resist asking, figuring now was the point they were laying all their cards on the table.

Obi Wan gave a slight shrug. “I’d normally prefer a couple more layers for a walk in this mess.” The grin he gave Anakin was devious. “It seems you would too; you look cold.”

Anakin _was_ , thank you very much. Still, he very pointedly uncrossed his arms and bared himself to the chill. “Yeah, it started snowing indoors. Funny, right?”

“Hilarious.” Obi Wan took a pointed step forward. Despite his hands remaining in his pockets, Anakin took a step back. Obi Wan laughed. “Well then. What brings you out into the elements on this fine evening?”

Nearly out of the range of the streetlight, Obi Wan glowed like a fading candle in the storm. Anakin still had no clue what this man’s attention meant, what their game was, but with someone looking at him like that, he knew he had to try.

“I was following you,” Anakin admitted. “We keep just missing each other, I wanted to catch up.”

“I don’t know, ’d say you’ve been hitting me fairly straight on these past few times,” Obi Wan retorted, but his smile remained. He took another step closer. Anakin wanted to move towards him, wanted to step away again. He felt frozen to the sidewalk. “You do realize, there are simpler ways to start a conversation besides sniping someone with a ball of ice,” Obi Wan pointed out.

“You did it back,” Anakin said, trying in vain not to sound like a whiny preschooler. 

“Of course I did; I wasn’t going to _lose._ ” There was that glimmer of mischief in Obi Wan’s grin; Anakin wanted to kiss it. “Besides,” Obi Wan added, looking up at Anakin through lowered lashes. Anakin cursed the dark for not being able to see his lovely eyes. “I might have liked the attention.”

Anakin’s heart fluttered traitorously. That _had_ to be a come-on, even he couldn’t be reading this wrong— could he? He still found himself unable to move, dumb limbs and feet gone numb from the weather he really shouldn’t be standing in, and Obi Wan was continuing to move closer, perfect hair waving in the wind.

Anakin had been silent for a while, as Obi Wan paused, looking at Anakin oddly, almost— hesitantly? Anakin realized he was likely coming across as aloof, and if that _had_ been a come-on he had heard, extended silence and awkward gawping was likely not the answer Obi Wan had been hoping for.

_Say something, dumbass!_

Anakin opened his mouth.

“I—“

He and Obi Wan spoke at the same time, but neither got more out, as right as this moment there was a roar, flashing lights, and a giant, frigid wave of grayish sludge rising off the road and into the air to completely cover the both of them as the bus rushed by kicking up road slush.

Anakin doubled over, sputtering. Oh god, it had gotten right in his mouth, _fuck_ , that was nasty. If he hadn’t been totally soaked before, he was now, smelly road snow dripping off his hair and shoulders, running down his back and sending socks swimming in sneakers. He felt like solid ice.

Coughing sounded in front of him. “Are you— are you alright?”

“It’s in my mouth!” Anakin wiped the stinging salty slush out of his eyes to see Obi Wan had not been spared either, looking just as sopping wet as Anakin was. 

For the second time, Anakin was seeing him with snow clumps in his hair and beard in a way that really should not be attractive, but there he was, still looking like one of the best things Anakin had ever seen in all of his damp, bedraggled glory, all while Anakin likely looked like a drowned rat, and oh shit, now Obi Wan was laughing at him—

“The bus won!” Obi Wan blurted out, hands braced on his sides, and he even had a nice laugh, dammit, on the rough side but warm as the rest of him. Too bad he wasn’t making any sense.

“What?” was all Anakin could say, unsure now on whether he should be offended or not. 

“The bus,” Obi Wan repeated, wiping his eyes and standing up. “I thought leading you out here meant we were going to have to throw more snowballs at each other, but instead the damned bus got the best of the both of us.” 

“The bus…” Anakin repeated to himself, realizing the truth of Obi Wan’s words. Obi Wan’s attack in the laundry room had just about evened them out, and then— 

“What the hell?” He found a laugh bubbling up in his own chest, despite himself, and then the pair of them were cracking up, wetter than fish in the middle of a snowstorm in the middle of the night. If anyone saw them, they would have thought them mad.

Obi Wan looked up from his hunched position, eyes flashing in the dark. “So. Do you forfeit then?”

Anakin crossed his arms. “To you or to the bus?” 

Obi Wan mimicked his arm movement. “I would be amenable to a mutual agreement of surrender.”

What was this guy, some sort of lawyer? Anakin stepped forward, about to teasingly ask him, when the universe decided the bus wasn’t enough.

The slush that coated the sidewalk, the road, and the pair of them, slid under Anakin’s shoe, causing his legs to shoot out from underneath him in front of Obi Wan for the second time. He had half a second to prepare himself for another bruised body part when suddenly, strong hands were grasping his shoulders and stopping him halfway to the ground.

Anakin blinked, both to get the snow out of his eyes and just in general surprise. Their faces this close together, the color of Obi Wan’s eyes was much easier to see from his position stooped over Anakin.

Obi Wan huffed out a breath, fog cloud washing over Anakin’s face. “Careful,” he murmured, voice quieter than the falling snowflakes. “It’s slippery.”

 _Thank you, Captain Obvious,_ Anakin was going to say.

Instead, Anakin leaned up and kissed him.

Their faces were both still freezing wet, and from the awkward angle, at first all Anakin got was the taste of damp beard. Fortunately, he didn’t have time to regret it before Obi Wan tilted his head and was kissing him back. The hands that had saved him from his fall were carefully readjusting his weight in their hold, and Anakin knew he should be standing or moving or really doing anything useful besides melting completely in twenty degree weather, but the only thing he felt capable of doing was slide his hands from their awkward clawed grip on Obi Wan’s arms up and around the back of his neck, feeling defined muscles through wet shirt fabric as he went.

At least Anakin knew for sure Obi Wan liked kissing men now— and that he was damn good at it. Anakin wasn’t too bad at it himself, but that dizzy feeling as soft, playful lips chased his own, brushing against his lower lip briefly before pressing in more solidly with just the briefest flash of tongue… well, Anakin thought, taking the opportunity to suck on that tempting upper lip, maybe now he understood a bit better Obi Wan’s talk about mutual surrender.

One of them— Anakin wasn’t sure who, but he was willing to take blame —went a bit deeper, causing an accidental touching of tongues, and Anakin felt a shiver run through him that wasn’t  
from the cold. Obi Wan withdrew anyway, slowly, and if Anakin’s first instinct was to try and chase after him, neither of them mentioned it.

For a heartbeat, they both stayed still as ice sculptures, panting breaths clouding the space between them. No longer connected to Obi Wan’s, Anakin’s mouth felt frozen.

“As nice as that was…” _Fuck_ , there was that rough timbre in Obi Wan’s voice Anakin had heard that morning of the doorstep snowball. “It’s freezing out, and you’re shaking.” Obi Wan was gently raising Anakin back up to a standing position, but thankfully, the arms holding him tight hadn’t moved.

“Am not,” Anakin said, countering his own words by pressing himself more firmly into Obi Wan’s embrace. Sue him, there was a hot guy holding him and he was in a wet teeshirt, he would do as he pleased.

Obi Wan chuckled softly, fingers plucking lightly at the fabric on Anakin’s back that felt likely to freeze there. “Nevertheless, I insist we go inside. You need to get out of those clothes.”

Anakin could practically feel his brain short-circuit. _”What?”_

Obi Wan was already jerking away from him, and Anakin would have mourned the loss of his warmth if his thoughts were online right now. “ _Shit,_ sorry, I didn’t mean— or I _did_ , but not like—“ Obi Wan ran a hand over his face, causing wet hair to stick up funny. He shot Anakin a gorgeously sheepish grin. “What I was attempting to say, before I so atrociously stuck my foot in my mouth, was that you’ll catch your death out here and should go inside and put on something warmer. I promise you I’m not usually this clumsy.”

Alright, now Anakin could breathe again. Inside him, he could feel something warming at the adorable fumbling, as well as the deeper concern for his wellbeing. “That’s nice of you, but I can’t make that promise,” he laughed. “As you’ve probably noticed, I’m the world’s biggest spaz.”

Obi Wan laughed again, and Anakin was already so, so gone for that smile. 

Another gust of wind sending icy daggers down his spine gave a boost of courage, and Anakin clapped his hands. “You’re right, though, it’s cold as balls out here and I’m guessing you’re not liking being covered in stinky road slush any more than I am.”

“Agreed,” Obi Wan said, flicking a greyish clump off his elbow with a wrinkle of his nose.

“If,” Anakin began hesitantly. “If you want to keep talking, we can go inside and back to my place, I’ve got a warm shower we can use.”

Obi Wan’s eyebrows shot up and Anakin realized his misstep in an instant. “Separately!” he yelped. “I meant showering separately, obviously, separately so then we could literally just hang out, I swear I’m not trying anything, even though I know it sounds like I am because you obviously also have a shower of your own here because you live here too and wouldn’t need to use mine, I just forgot that, honestly, I was just trying to be helpful…”

 _Stop talking!_ Anakin finally put a lid on his verbal vomit, trailing off and watching Obi Wan’s disturbingly blank face.

“Then you _aren’t_ asking to shower together?” Obi Wan asked, cocking his head to the side.

Anakin buried his face in his hands. “No!” _Not so soon, anyway! Not unless you wanted to?_

He could hear Obi Wan laughing again, and Anakin poked his face out of his hands to shoot the other man a glare. “Hey, you know what I meant. I didn’t make fun of you for your slip-up.”

“That was your missed opportunity,” Obi Wan told him, laughter still in his voice.

Anakin rolled his eyes, unable to stay pouty for long. “Yeah, yeah, I said I’m a spaz. When other people put their foot in their mouth, I fucking swallow mine. This is why I shouldn’t have adult conversations.”

“I wouldn’t say that, I’ve enjoyed listening to you so far,” Obi Wan said honestly, and oh that was sweet, there went the rest of Anakin’s heart. “I never heard you say so much before we started this little game,” Obi Wan added, almost shyly. “Forgive me, but you didn’t quite come across as being interested in talking to me before.”

Anakin could go back in time and murder himself. “What? No, of course I wanted to, why the hell do you think I got up that damn early in the morning to get mostly junk mail every day?”

“Maybe because you had a job to get to like I did?”

“Ha! I work from home, pal. I just wanted to see you— but I’m also kind of a coward who, as I said, sucks at adult conversations.”

“So you chose snowballs instead,” Obi Wan murmured, an impossibly soft look on his face. Shit, how the hell hadn’t Anakin scared him off yet?

“Yep. Snowballs,” Anakin said, rubbing his hands together because they were still out in the damn storm. “But, if you really want to listen to me— which is your funeral, by the way, the offer to come back to my place still stands.” Obi Wan’s eyes narrowed, and maybe Anakin was starting to know him well enough to recognize incoming teasing, because he hurriedly added, “I’ve got hot chocolate packets and my roommate has a Netflix subscription, we could just—“

“Talk?” Obi Wan finished for him.

“Talk,” Anakin echoed, sure there was a goofy grin all over his face.

“I’d like that,” Obi Wan said, gracing Anakin with another one of those breathtaking smiles.

“Cool,” Anakin said. “Great.”

It really felt like they were in danger of getting frostbite, so instead of dawdling outside any longer, Anakin took the initiative and held his hand out for Obi Wan to take. Icy fingers closed around his own as they slowly made their way back to the building, but with Obi Wan smiling at him, Anakin didn’t think he’d be feeling cold much longer.

Maybe the snow wasn’t as bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later in this universe, these two dorks are gonna get married, and the proposal happens in the middle of the summer when one of them freezes the ring in an ice cube and puts it in the other's drink cuz they're DORKS.
> 
> This was the goopiest, fluffiest, most self-indulgent cheesefest I could ever write and I don't regret it because I deserve nice things.
> 
> Tell me if y'all liked, either here or on Tumblr at [@twilightofthe](https://twilightofthe.tumblr.com/) ;)


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